Guns and crosses

I am seldom out of words. But the words that I have today, after a weekend of deep thought and prayer, are scattered. I will try my best to put them into perspective. I'm not sure I will be clear, but I pray for clarity.

I watched the service from Newtown, Conn. on Sunday night. I was moved far greater than I imagined I would ever be from a service for people I didn't know. I'm not, or my heart isn't, wired that way. But I kept thinking of the times I've lost loved ones, and I put myself into the hearts and bodies of those in that auditorium, and heard their tears and wails quite loudly as various clergy and politicians spoke or said prayers.

I must confess that I wasn't happy to have a hodge-podge of clergy there, but the more prayers were said from various faiths, the more I thought how wonderful this was. I wasn't happy that the president was speaking from this event, but the more I heard, the more wonderful I thought the message was. The comments I saw on Facebook today about the fact NBC didn't show a quarter of a football game leads me to think that we have bigger problems than I even realized.

How anyone, anyone -- hear me -- can think that we should not do more to prevent this, or at the very, very least to prevent these kinds of things is without question or doubt wrong. I'm seldom this clear on something.

Moments before we got into our truck to journey to begin a journey to New Orleans the day of the event, I saw the number of children who had died and while on the trip, I tried to find a news station for further updates. I came across a conservative voice on the radio, and minutes or even seconds after saying how terrible this heinous act was, he started talking about how he was sure that there were liberals at that very moment trying to blame the conservatives. AT THAT VERY MOMENT? The callousness of that statement is beyond my comprehension.

It is at these kind of times that we need to step back and not be left or right, not be conservative or liberal, not even all Americans. We should simply be decent, caring, parents and relatives and friends. Just people would do. If we are all Christians, whatever in the world that actually is today, so be it. But it doesn't take much brains, it seems to me, to retaliate on the other side oof whatever side one comes downon guns, or on violence, or whatever the heck the case might be in these turbulent times.

When will enough be enough? Is that really an argument? If the answer to these things is putting a gun into the hands of children or teachers so that they can be called safe, then I'm afraid what I've been afraid about for our country is indeed coming true. Our society is the most dangerous in the world. It is our very freedom that makes it so.

Putting God back into the schools isn't the answer, for those who have the Lord in their heart have never allowed Him to be taken out. The only place we have the power to keep God out of is our hearts. If loving God, as a band I once followed wrote, is a crime, I'd be an outlaw. That, to me, is not the issue. Of this, I'm sure. But putting love into schools, and more importantly into homes, is. Government can't do that. It simply can't. There are some things individuals must accept as their role in this society. I heard this week that with 50 million or so children in public school in this country, they are much more likely to die in an automobile accident than in a shooting such as this. That really doesn't comfort me right now, frankly.

The ultimate answer isn't in me, I'm afraid. It might well be out of the prevue of anyone. But don't we owe each of our children, or the adults just as vulnearble, an effort to try? Or do we simply sweep this into the Columbine, Pearl, Blacksburg, Aurora closet until the next time when we weep for the children again?

The scriptures described a time when Herod told soldiers to kill every boy child under the age of two. God allowed this to happen. It still troubles me to this day that He allowed that to happen, when the God I love and follow could have done away with this so easily.

The scripture, the prophecy that was fulfilled, reads, "A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be consoled, because they were no more."

That's it, I'm afraid. That's all the explanation we get. It had to happen to fulfill prophecy. Sometimes, frankly, it isn't enough. The curtain needs to be pulled a little more open. I need, we need a little more, Lord.

Let this time be the time we refuse to be consoled, and actually come together to do something -- anything -- about the loss of our children.